Chapter Text
“Akashi-san.” Ruby eyes lifted from the papers littering his desk, taking in the woman standing in the doorway. Smartly dressed in grays, slacks and a blouse, a black jacket buttoned across her torso, brown eyes were covered slightly by thin wire glasses. “You have visitors. Shall I see them up?” He straightened, shoulders shifting and feeling the slight pull from the past few hours of sitting over his desk.
“Did they give their names?” His eyes glanced to the left, taking in the time (just after three) before returning to her. Depending on who it was, he would have to reschedule; he had a meeting to attend in less than an hour.
“Of-course. It’s Midorima-san, Takao-san, and Kagami-san.”
He felt his lips twitch upwards in the beginnings of a smile, but he schooled his features. “Yes, please see them up, Matsuo-san. Thank you.” The woman gave a short bow, eyes closing briefly, before turning and moving away from his open door.
Takao was a given, seeing as he was rarely away from Midorima, but if Kagami was here, that meant Kuroko was also here. A decade now, and still his misdirection was a common thing. He still found it amusing when even Kagami still jumped at his sudden appearances. You would think after being together for so long, he would be used to it, but that hardly seemed the case.
He still had an hour. He could do with a break before his next appointment.
“Midorima, Takao, Kuroko, Kagami, it’s nice to see you. What pleasure do I owe this visit?” He smiled cordially, having risen from his desk on their way up to prepare coffee. He heard their steps stop shortly after entering his office.
Unnatural silence greeted him. Then, the door closing quietly.
“Akashi-kun. Please turn on the news.” Kuroko, voice the familiar softness, but there was something off. While typically a monotone, this…
He turned, raising a crimson brow as he glanced at the four over his shoulder.
Midorima was standing off the side, straight as always, but there was a tenseness in his shoulders. Beside him, Takao refused to look up, head bent and hands curled into fists. Kagami was glowering up at the ceiling tiles as if they had insulted his mother while Kuroko stood next to him, blue eyes staring into Akashi’s red.
“Why?” He could have imagined it, but he thought he heard Kagami choke. “Have we made the headlines again?”
“Turn on the news, Akashi.” It was Midorima who answered him. Akashi was tempted to wrangle out the truth first, but there was just something entirely wrong with this picture, the four of them in his office and looking so unusually tense.
Broken, dare he say?
“Very well,” he agreed easily enough, clicking on the remote and facing the screen mounted in the corner of his office. “Is there a specific channel you’d—“
“24,” Midorima interrupted, raising his fingers—still taped—to adjust his glasses, the glare briefly hiding his eyes. Akashi complied, keeping his eyes on them as he clicked in the numbers, brows furrowing as he watched them.
“—has gone down. We currently don’t have any concrete news on what happened, but from radio transmissions before the crash, it appears to have been engine failure. For those of you just tuning in,” Akashi looked up at the screen, faced with the image of a plane, the heavy metal crumbled so easily on the ground, the earth around it scorched and burning as the camera moved, likely from the helicopter. The plane itself, once a pristine white, was stained with black and gray, but from the fires and the dirt from the crater it created upon impact. “Just a little over two hours ago, a flight travelling from Tokyo to Nagato, Yamauchi, has crashed.”
Time stopped. The woman reporting on the TV went silent as he stared. His friends stood still.
Nothing moved.
Nothing could move.
All he could see was that plane, crashed and crumbled, burning and torn apart on the ground, debris littering the field. Rescue workers moving through the wreckage, forms small from so far above.
This wasn’t true. There was a mistake.
“…As we know it right now… There are no survivors. Rescue teams are continuing to scour the scene, searching for any injured, but the death toll continues to rise. Out of the one-hundred-and-sixteen registered passengers, forty-three have been recovered from the wreckage. We have our news team on the scene and we’ll continue to update you throughout the afternoon with any and all information we obtain. To those of you just tuning in now, we’ve received word of a crash in Hiroshima, just inside the border between Hiroshima and Yamaguchi. Earlier this morning, a flight from Tokyo—“
“Is this a joke?” His voice was cold, form straight as he turned to stare down the four intruders in his office. “Well?”
“Akashi-kun, we would not be so cruel.” Kuroko, ever the faithful shadow, gazed back at him, blank, blue eyes staring into him—into his soul—and keeping his face so perfectly blank. “We came to…” He stopped, dropping his face for a moment before raising it back up.
Tears. Kuroko Tetsuya was crying.
“We’re here for you,” Kagami murmured, resting a hand on his smaller boyfriend’s shoulder, grip tightening as he too let the tears go. “We’re here for you,” he repeated.
Akashi stared at them, absolutely silent as the reporter continued to speak in the background, her voice muffled in the sudden, profound loudness of his office.
Midorima stood straight, just as he always did, but his fingers were curled around Takao’s, the former point guard now openly sobbing, free hand up and curled around his mouth, trying in vain to muffle his sobs. Kuroko bowed his head, hands fisting the fabric of his slacks. Kagami stared resolutely ahead, refusing to look away from Akashi Seijuuro, former heir, current owner and CEO of the Akashi Corporation.
“We know—“ Midorima took a breath as Akashi’s eyes zeroed in on him. “We know Furihata left this morning to visit family in Nagato.”
“No.”
“Akashi—“ Kagami tried, voice breaking off before he could continue. He closed his eyes tight, face scrunching up as he took deep breaths.
“He’s fine. Kouki is fine,” he snatched his phone from the top of his desk, swiping it open to pull up his contacts, years of schooling and this harsh world forcing his emotions down, away and out of sight.
Where they wouldn’t affect him.
Where he wouldn’t feel them.
Where he wouldn’t have to acknowledge them.
“We’ve already tried calling him, but he’s not—he’s not picking up!” Kagami managed, voice harsh and strained.
“He’s fine,” was the redhead’s simple answer, pressing the call button and lifting it to his ear, refusing to look at them, at the TV. He settled for the window, staring out at the towering buildings around them, the sun glinting off the windows. When the ringing stopped, he smiled. “Kouki, I—“
“Sorry, but I’m busy at the moment! Ah, or I’ve lost my phone again… An-anyway, please leave me a message at the beep! Or, um, I guess call Seijuuro if it’s really important! I’ll get back to you when I can! Thanks!”
The long, shrill noise that followed snapped him out of his daze and he pulled the phone away to stare down at him.
“A-akashi…”
He ended the call, staring down at his phone for a long moment before starting another, raising the phone once more.
“He’s fine. Kouki’s fine.”
He was fine.
He was perfectly alright.
He was just busy. Probably getting his bags. Greeting his family. Occupied at the moment. He probably heard the ringing but hadn’t been able to get to it soon enough. He’ll answer.
“Sorry, but I’m busy at the moment! Ah, or I’ve lost—“
Akashi ended the call, receiving the familiar voice mail once more. He started up another, shoulders stiffening as he took in short breaths through his nose, glaring out at the Tokyo skyline, eyes focusing on the buildings before him.
“Akashi-kun…” Kuroko, his voice sounded harsher than he’d ever heard. “Furihata-kun…”
“He will pick up. He’s fine, Kuroko.”
He didn’t dare look away from the window.
“He will pick up.”
He refused to accept anything else. He was fine, just busy with his family. He was fine and everything was alright. The news was wrong, there was no other explanation.
Furihata Kouki was alive and breathing, just on the other side of the line. His boyfriend was perfectly alright. They were the ones over-reacting, over-thinking. They didn’t know what was going on—the news didn’t even know, so how could they say such a thing?
He was fine.
“Sorry, but I’m busy at—“ Akashi ended it swiftly, redialing once more and lifting it back up.
“I—I’m sorry, A… Akashi…” Midorima. Midorima was speaking. He turned, glancing at the green-haired doctor from the corner of his eyes.
Tears. Midorima was crying too. Why were they all crying? Didn’t they understand? Kouki was fine, just as he always was. They were putting too much stock in the news, too much faith in their words.
As if his plane would have gone down. It was a simple flight, just an hour at the most. Nothing had gone wrong and they were thinking too much.
Besides, there were dozens of flights at any given time. Probably a few from Tokyo to Yamaguchi as well.
It was fine. It wasn’t his flight, after-all.
“Furihata won’t be—he won’t be answering.” Midorima choked, raising his hand to cover his mouth quickly, green eyes closing as tears continued to course down his cheeks.
Akashi could only stare at the four, watching them silently. Had he ever seen them show so much emotion before? Perhaps on occasion, but to such a degree? Honestly, he had to say he hadn’t. And Midorima of all people? Midorima?
It was almost laughable. They were working themselves up too much, over such a silly thing.
Everything was fine, so why were they all acting like it wasn’t? What proof did they have?
None. Absolutely none at all.
They were overreacting, imagining the worst based on no data.
“Sorry, but I’m busy at the moment! Ah, or I’ve lost my phone again… An-anyway, please leave me a message at the beep! Or, um, I guess call Seijuuro if it’s really important! I’ll get back to you when I can! Thanks!”
They were all being idiots, imaging the worst.
Everything was fine.
Everything would be fine.
It was all going to be fine.
“Akashi, he’s not—“
“Don’t be foolish, Kagami,” Akashi snapped out, dropping his phone back onto his desk and turning to glower at them. “You all honestly believe such a thing?” he spat out, glancing back up at the TV screen. “They haven’t given us anything to prove this. There are any given number of flights at one time, not to mention from different airports. It’s hardly logical to believe this this flight would be his.” He snorted, shaking his head and rolling his shoulders. “Kouki told me he’d call when he got settled at his grandparents. I have no reason to believe anything is wrong. And neither should you.” He pinned them all with a firm look, lips pressing into an unamused line. “Now, if you’re quite finished, Matsuo will see you all out. I assume we are all still meeting up for dinner tomorrow night, so I will see you then. If you’ll excuse me, I am needed else—“
“Flight 912,” Kuroko’s voice was barely a whisper, but he heard it clear as day. He didn’t notice he stopped breathing. “Flight 912. From… Haneda Airport.”
Akashi couldn’t understand what he was saying.
Why did Kuroko know Kouki’s flight number? And where Akashi had driven him to earlier that morning? How did Kuroko know his flight number? Had he mentioned it at one point? No, probably Kouki.
So, why did Kuroko feel the need to share that information now?
“The—the flight—“ Takao choked out, eyes red and glassy, his shirt stained where the tears had fallen for the past ten minutes, if not longer. “The flight th-tha-that cr-craaaashed—!” he covered his face with both hands.
Takao, Akashi noted distantly, was awfully emotional. He was a good foil, he supposed, to Midorima’s apparent aversion to feelings.
“I see no relevance to the topic at hand.”
“Don’t you get it?” Akashi’s eyes flashed at the rise in volume of Kagami’s words, ruby eyes narrowing on crimson, lips pulling into a frown as the taller of the redheads glared. “It’s his flight, Akashi! That—“ Kagami pointed furiously at the TV screen, where the mangled plane was back in all its fiery glory, “—is his flight! 912 from Haneda!”
They were all idiots. Absolute idiots.
As if such a thing could happen.
He was Akashi Seijuuro. His orders were absolute. He was absolute.
Such a thing could not happen.
He wouldn’t allow such a thing to happen.
“There were no survivors, Akashi!” Kagami bellowed, tears dripping from his chin as he continued glaring at the redhead before him. “Don’t you get it?!” Kuroko raised a hand, tugging hard on his boyfriend’s hand, twining their fingers together, heaving out a small hiccup.
“Th-that’s enough, Ka—Kagami-kun,” he managed, form trembling. His words were a whisper through the nearly silent office. “That’s enough…”
Kagami held his stare for only a few seconds longer before he dropped his head, taking in great heaving gulps of air, fingers curled tight around Kuroko’s smaller one, clinging to the bluenette beside him.
“Leave.”
His orders were absolute. He was the Emperor. He was an Akashi. People trembled before him, before his power and might.
“Now.”
“Akashi—“ Midorima was cut off with a glare, the likes of which he hadn’t seen in years.
“Now, Shintaro.”
A glare that comprised of one eye red, the other gold.
He was absolute.
But if that was true, why did he feel so close to breaking?
“I…” Akashi turned away, facing the windows once more, staring out at the city with heterochromatic eyes, his breaths quickening as his thoughts began to spiral. “No.” Akashi whirled around, rage beginning to paint his aura, the darkness that was his other self beginning to grow. “Not like this. Not now, not when you’re so—“
“You dare doubt me?”
Midorima straightened, towering over his former Captain, gazing down at him hard. “We are here for you, Seijuuro. To help.” Takao nodded quickly, clinging to his boyfriend’s arm.
“As if I need you—“
“Akashi-kun, you’re crying,” was Kuroko’s input.
That moment of weakness, that moment of his fears finally coming to set in, that moment where his stronger self took over was all that was needed to finally tip him over the edge.
What was a world without his lover?
What was this life without his easy nature and smiles?
What was this life without his affection?
What was this world without Furihata Kouki?
What did this world mean to him?
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
What was Akashi Seijuuro without him?
He didn’t want to find out.